


setting fire to our insides for fun

by qeut



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, So much angst, i'm so obsessed with daughter at the minute, inspired by 'youth', it probably deserves another chapter but not today, it's quite dark, literally and metaphorically, pining?, short and sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 06:29:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2057445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qeut/pseuds/qeut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there was nothing beautiful about ashton’s pain in the aftermath, nothing that alluded to a tortured soul who would flourish from the ashes. his suffering was ugly and raw and if he could still physically hurt he’d be in agony. he was lifeless. a silhouette. </p><p>it had been twenty six weeks and three days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	setting fire to our insides for fun

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry

it was dim, the half-light allowing shadows to settle on the slabs of grey concrete that littered the alleyway, forgotten and neglected. smoke curled around ashton’s lips as he leant on the cold wall, listening to the sounds of the city. a shrill laugh, followed by another: deeper, huskier, that of a man. the toot of a horn, a revved engine. the world was in motion.

not ashton.

heaving the smoke through his lungs, he flicked the burnt-out cigarette to the ground, watching the flame flicker and extinguish. it was a metaphor for himself, really: something so vibrant, alive, now just a carcass. dead. gone. he shivered. the temperature was dropping.

he couldn’t describe the numbness that seeped through his bones. it soaked into every fibre of his being, an all-too familiar feeling that left him staring at the bricks ahead of him, powerless and completely overwhelmed all at once. his mouth was dry, fingers rough and yellowing from the tobacco that lined his pockets and his lungs, a habit he found solace in now.

it allowed him to breathe.

ashton stared at his hands and wondered why his chest still felt like it was in pieces after all this time. it had been six months.

six months since ashton had woken up alone, six months since he had found himself sitting on his kitchen floor, vision bleary from alcohol and tears that trickling down his face onto his bare torso, leaving his eyes red-rimmed and damp from luke’s words echoing in his head. six months since his life had ceased to hold any sort of meaning at all.

six months since luke had left him.

ashton was twenty one and luke was nineteen when they’d found each other and since that day it had been _ashtonandluke_ or _lukeandashton_ and nothing had ever changed. luke was a constant in ashton’s life for four and a half years. 

those years had been perfect, idyllic, every day a halcyon day and nothing was ever _going_ to change. ashton’s world was technicolour and luke was the sun at the centre of it and they were alive. they were going places. ashton might’ve believed they were unstoppable.

and then it stopped.

_“i’m leaving.”_

there was nothing beautiful about ashton’s pain in the aftermath, nothing that alluded to a tortured soul who would flourish from the ashes of a broken life. his suffering was ugly and raw and if he could still physically hurt he’d be in agony. he was lifeless. a silhouette. it had been twenty six weeks and three days.

another laugh fragmented the still air around him and ashton found himself locking gazes with the couple swaying at the top of the alley, clutching plastic cups as their hands found each others and their fingers intertwined, a reflex action.

love?

the girl giggled again and muttered something about _maybe tomorrow,_ and ashton wondered what it was like to still consider the future an important matter.

he almost wished he had one for himself - but then again, there was no real point in that.

the blatant happiness of the young couple abruptly made ashton feel sick, bitter that they had such spirit and life within them and that something as insignificant as a _boy_ had stolen his own, and he was angry, dammit. he couldn’t breathe. couldn’t think. he needed to get out.

ashton had nowhere to be and nowhere to go, so he walked, walked towards the lights of the city down unknown streets, further and further away from the reminders of his past and the souvenirs that went with them. he walked until the only illumination came from the orange glow of the street lamps and the faded strips of neon that flanked the buildings on either side of him and the night was _there,_ unyielding and obstinate.

the faces stared, expressionless, and ashton stared blankly back at them until he caught sight of a figure and his mind turned to nothing but silver-grey static because it had been six months of _nothing,_ one hundred and eighty five days of no contact, complete avoidance, silence.

his breathing ceased and the corrupted air that filled his lungs caught in his throat as the man walked towards him, hood pulled up, failing to hide his blonde colouring, familiar yet foreign but undeniably _him_ and ashton’s oxygen-deprived brain went into overdrive screaming _luke, luke, luke, wait._

luke’s ice blue eyes caught ashton’s own, glanced at him once and looked away, and then he was gone, the moment had passed, and ashton was pulling a cigarette from his jacket, trying to distract himself from the ringing in his ears and the ache in his chest.

the dull concrete rushed towards him and he crumpled into himself, leant against the filthy bricks on the corner of a street he didn’t know, completely helpless and utterly utterly alone.

**Author's Note:**

> hi, i'll be honest: this is writing purely to force myself to write, so it's not divinely inspired and it's not fantastic, but it's something and i hope there's at least a little fragment of imagery in there somewhere that made you go 'oh that's nice'


End file.
